


home to me

by chepsi



Category: Invader Zim
Genre: Enemies to Friends, Gen, I WANNA GO HOOOOOOOOOME, ZADF, basically the plot of enter the florpus but developed before we knew what it was about
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2019-09-05 07:06:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16805833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chepsi/pseuds/chepsi
Summary: Zim begrudgingly decides to throw in the towel on his mission and finds himself having to ask Dib for help getting in touch with the Tallest. When the connection fails, Zim, now faced with the reality of being stuck on Earth forever, manages to find solace somewhere he'd never expect: in a friend.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> so this is uh, my multi-chapter invader zim fanfiction i developed and started writing over the summer. it likes place in a kind of specific canon: none of the unfinished episodes have happened, minimoose isn't there (sorry), and there's no acknowledgment of any events of the comics, as i wrote this before i read them. there's going to be five chapters. enjoy.

Zim wanted to go home.

Earth was an ever-confusing, and filthy, and _stupid_ planet, and he was growing tired of dealing with its exhausting routine: from paste-bathing, to trying to adapt to the horrible human ways, to spending day after day getting nowhere closer to doing his job. All he wanted was to please the Tallest, but he was finding their assignment more and more impossible by the day. Worse yet, he couldn’t get in touch with them. It had been a while since a transmission to them didn’t connect him to a taunting screen of static, and he was starting to get worried. He’d just fly himself home, but there had been an unfortunate accident involving the Voot, some tacos, and a couple of rubber piggies. That’s why he needed to contact the Tallest so badly: the past… many crashes have rendered him fresh out of parts. And it’s not just the Tallest either; he’s tried mail orders, infomercial planets, and even Prisoner 777, every workaround he can think of, but it’s like nothing will go through. He’s tried to fix the computer, he tried to get Gir to fix the computer (which was not a good idea), he tried to get the _computer_ to fix the computer, but all to no avail. There’s something blocking his signal. He keeps telling himself that the silence may be a good thing, an opportunity to focus on his mission, but it’s such an incredibly loud silence it’s hardly fit to think in. It felt like in was surrounding him, closing him in on Earth. And though he would never admit it, it was beginning to feel like something Zim hated: something prickling at his skin, trying to chew him alive from the inside.

He was starting to feel pretty lonely.

—

Zim’s days had lost any semblance of routine. Skool was out for summer break again, and the heat was unbearable, so he stayed in the house. He’d spend a couple of hours trying to get a transmission through, a couple on the couch with Gir watching some terrible human programming, and dedicate some to trying to fix the Voot, with the rest often left to simply staring at the wall, as if it would give him some kind of answer, some kind of fix. The Voot was a lost cause, and he knew it, he had known it since he crashed it, but he couldn’t stop himself from trying to jumpstart his only hope for getting away from Earth. With every long, monotonous turn this planet made, he was getting more and more desperate; though he had been thrilled the summer had kept the Dib human away from him, he was almost at a point where he wanted to ask him for help. As sick as the very idea made him, there was no one else he knew with the technology to help him break through, at least not anyone he could currently get in touch with. Even just contacting Dib would be asking for trouble; begging for his help would be worse. But after sitting through yet another three hours of the Angry Monkey Show, he was beginning to think he had no choice.

He left Gir at home and braved the heat to get the human’s house, all the way telling himself this was a bad idea, until he was finally standing at the door.

The time that Zim had found himself here before was one time too many. Yet here he was again, a shaking hand held up against the wood grain but too afraid to knock. The last thing an invader should do is show weakness, and here he is showing his belly like some kind of cowardly pig-beast. He tells himself that what he’s doing is hard, he’s overcoming a challenge that will help him get closer to his goal, that if the human complies he’ll be one step closer to a comfortable life on Irk. With that thought, he gives the door a confident three knocks and waits.

The door is answered by… not Dib, but his smaller, purple-headed sibling. She scowls something menacing as she cracks the door open.

“What do you want?” she snarls, voice low and threatening. “I’m almost to the final level of Piggy Slayer 2, and you interrupted me. This better be good.” She cracks her knuckles, and Zim swallows before coming to his senses. He’s not afraid of this child, why should he let her frighten him?

“Tiny purple human,” he says, standing on his toes because he’s not much taller than her, “I come asking for assistance, something I must make clear that Zim does not do often!” He says this part loudly for emphasis. She winces.

“Yeah, yeah.” She says, rubbing a finger in her ear before returning to squint at him, her gaze almost freezing him in place. “You want Dib?”

Zim falls back onto the balls of his feet. “Well, I don’t want him, but if you could get him, that would be nice. Is he here?” He tries to peek in through the crack, but she narrows it more, not sparing his head in the process. He yelps in pain and she snorts, turning around to look in the house.

“Yeah, I think he’s in the garage working on his stupid—“

“ZIM!”

Dib emerges from nowhere, edge and animosity following the rather hilarious crack in his voice. He nearly knocks his sister to the ground, and she seems furious for a moment, raising a fist, before rolling her eyes and heading back in the house with a “don’t bother me again”.

Dib stands his ground in the doorway. Much to Zim’s distaste, the human has been growing; he now stands at least a solid four inches above Zim, and is beginning to have to look down to talk to him. It’s extremely insulting.

“I thought I heard your voice. I’d know that overconfident squeal anywhere.”

Zim narrows his eyes, but says nothing. He doesn’t have time to argue with a child, but from the fire in his eyes and past experience, Dib is not done with his babbling rant.

“I thought I told you to never show your ugly face here again!”

That manages to take Zim aback. He turns his head slightly to the side, eyes gleaming accusingly, if not with a little amusement. “You never told me that.”

Dib is stunned, his obviously orchestrated verbal attack flipped on its head. “Well...it was implied!” He snaps back, folding his arms across his chest. “What are you doing here anyway?” He makes a big show of staring down at Zim, who scowls in frustration.

“I could ask _you_ the same thing!” he shouts, jabbing a finger into Dib’s condescendingly cocked and giant head. Dib stares blankly at him as his arms fall to his sides.

“This is _my_ house…”

Zim glares at him. “Look, human. I wouldn’t be sitting on your _filthy_ doorstep if I didn’t need something, and as much as I regret to inform you what I _need_ is your help.” He chokes the words out as quickly as possible, and tries to ignore the evil smile that crosses Dib’s face when he’s done. “Well?” Zim throws his arms up, waiting for a response.

“Well what, Zim?”

“Don’t make me wipe that smirk off your face.” He balls his fists. “I am humbling myself by stooping to your inferior human level, and I demand you to honor my request!”

“So humble,” says Dib, rolling his eyes. “Give me one reason I should help you.”

“Because I’ll melt your brains through your nose if you don’t!”

“Uh-huh, yeah, empty threats are definitely helping your sad little cause.” Dib leans against the doorway, his face twisted with morbid satisfaction.

“They’re not empty!!” Zim is furious now. He has half a mind to knock the human unconscious on the spot.

“Think you’re gonna have to make a _taller_ order there, space boy.”

That’s it. Zim grabs him by the shirt collar and yanks him down to his level.

“ _Listen_ , dirt boy,” Zim snarls. Dib gulps. “This may be your only opportunity to get rid of me, so I suggest you take advantage of it.” He’s pleased when he sees fear has overtaken his greasy monkey features.

Temptation flickers in Dib’s eyes, but once he blinks they’re cold again. “I can’t get rid of you,” he says, pulling himself away and dusting his jacket off. “You’re—“

“ _Dib_ ,” says Gaz suddenly, as Dib is pulled backwards into the house with a yelp. “If you don’t shut the door I’m going to tell Dad about what you’re hiding in the—“

Dib clamps a hand over her mouth and her face somehow gets angrier. “No, you uh… don’t have to tell Dad that.” Gaz stomps off and Dib opens the door wide. “Fine. You have no weapons?”

Zim holds his hands out at his side. He’s completely empty-handed.

“Nothing in your boots, or—“

“Can you just let me in?” Zim snaps. “Your sun is killing me.”

He raises his arm up to let Zim walk under. “My sun,” he mumbles, shaking his head. “Okay, you’re in. Now what exactly is it that you want?”

“I’d like you to help me get off of the planet.” He tries to keep the begging out of his voice. “I’ve exhausted all of my options and require your assistance to contact my leaders.”

“Again—why should I help you?” Dib laughs in disbelief, probably. “You’ve done nothing but screw me over since you got here, not to mention the fact that you’ve been trying to take over the planet! How do I know you’re not just summoning them to come blow me up or something?”

Zim scoffs. Do humans understand nothing of galactic conquest? “Because that would be a waste! Earth may be a disgusting dirt ball, but I won’t deny it’s a planet of plentiful resources. Perfect for an parking lot.”

“A parking lot?! You want me to have my planet made into a parking lot?!”

“It’s up to the Tallest what they would do with it.”

“And that’s exactly why I won’t help you!” Dib’s voice cracks again as he pulls at his hair. “It’s just another one of your stupid schemes!”

Zim sighs and rubs his temple. “You’re misunderstanding,” he says wearily. “Earth isn’t a priority for them. All you’d be doing is getting me in touch with them.”

“And why exactly can’t you do that yourself?” Dib opens his fridge and pulls out a soda. “Can I get you anything? You want some water?”

“ _Enough_.” He can’t remember if the Dib was always this annoying, or if their time apart had finally given Zim peace of mind, but it’s driving him crazy. “For your information, all of my outgoing signals seem to be blocked.”

Dib raises his eyebrows. “That’s good news.”

“Not if you want me off this stinking planet!”

“Oh yeah, that’s what I was saying,” he says, taking a sip of his drink before laying it on the counter. “Why should I get rid of you? Exposing you is my one shot at being proved… you know, not crazy.” He leans next to it, fixing Zim with that same stupid confused look from earlier. “With you gone, I’d be right back to hoping some other supernatural creature stumbles right into my grasp like you did. Not taking that chance.”

“As if you’ve had any success with that,” Zim says loftily, climbing into a bar stool so he at least _feels_ taller than the human. “If anything I’ve just made you look even more like a fool.”

“As if you’ve had any success with taking over Earth!”

“Don’t you get it?” Zim slams his hands down on the bar, rattling it enough to where Dib has to save his can from spilling. “That’s why I want to leave!”

Dib leans onto the counter. “So… what? That’s it? You’re just giving up?”

“It’s not giving up,” Zim snaps, crossing his arms. “It’s a... tactical retreat.” His scowl deepens when Dib laughs, a disgusting guttural sound he did _not_ miss.

“I like that, you just keep on telling yourself that,” he says, smiling behind his soda can. It’s too much.

Zim stands up again and knocks it out of his hand. It falls to the ground with a harsh metallic rattle, and the soda hisses as it hits the floor and nearby wall.

“What the _hell—“_

Zim leans into his face, and finds him looking afraid again. That’s better.

“Zim tires of arguing with you. You’re going to do what I want.” He jabs Dib in the chest with each point he makes, and revels in seeing him tremble and wince. “You’re going to come to my base and help me stage an emergency call with the Tallest. And then, guess what? You’re never going to have to see me again! Isn’t that what you what?” He steps back, fists tight at his sides. Dib rubs at his forehead.

“No, not—“

“Hush.” He hops out of the bar stool. “We’re leaving now.”

“Now?”

“Yes. We’re just going to need some things from your lab.”

“Ugh. You spit on me, you know.”

—

The walk back to the base is awkward. He made Dib carry all the supplies, and has to listen to him grumble to himself all the way there.

“I don’t get it,” Dib says, looking at Zim over his armful of specially selected lab equipment. “You can’t leave _why?_ ”

“My ship is broken.”

“Again? Haven’t you broken that thing like four ti—“

“We’re here.” Zim cuts him off as they arrive at his house, thankful he won’t have to listen to Dib for much longer.

They enter the house. Dib tries to stop and look around and Zim has to push him to keep him moving. Gir waves at them from the couch.

“This doesn’t look normal, you know,” he says. “Like, at all.”

“Well it won’t be here for much longer, so it doesn’t matter.” Zim opens the lid to the trash can that leads his base. “Get in.”

Somehow the silence in the elevator is even _more_ awkward than the walk there; Zim has to stop himself from standing on his toes so he doesn’t feel so small. It’s thrust in his face more violently than ever how short he is; watching the children at skool grow ever taller than him has been like a painful, stretched out flashback to the Elite Academy. Especially Dib. He’s too stupid to be so tall.

“Zim?”

The human’s words break his thoughts, and he’s almost grateful. “What?”

“What are you doing?” He snorts.

Zim is suddenly very aware of the fact that he _is_ standing on his toes. He drops his feet back to the ground. “Nothing.”

“Are you really that self conscious about your height?” He’s holding back laughter, something Zim finds incredibly insulting. “It’s _that_ important to you?”

“For your _information_ ,” Zim hisses, not looking at him, “the Irken hierarchy _is_ based on height.”

“Would you feel better if I like, squatted down or— _ow!_ ” Dib yelps as Zim kicks him in the shin.

The elevator door opens and Zim steps into his lab, instructing Dib to place the stuff down on a table. “So, Dib. Here’s what we’re going to do.”

—

Zim shifts uncomfortably, his arms and legs now having been strapped down. “When I call them, act like you’ve actually captured me. Pretend to enact all your… freaky dissection fantasies.” He weakly waves a hand but stops when the restraints bump his wrist. They’re a little tight.

Dib scoffs. “Whatever. Is there anything you want me to say?” He’s holding a scalpel, and it makes Zim nervous. He looks away.

“Just act menacing, I suppose. It might take a couple tries to get to them.”

“You’re really not bringing them here to blow up the planet?” He’s starting to sound doubtful again.

“No, Dib. I’m not. They’ll see I’m in danger and send for me.” That’s what he’s hoping, anyway. He ignores the thoughts of there being no guarantee he would even reach them. “Computer, call the Tallest.”

_“Again? Your signals are still offline.”_

“Just call them!” he snaps. “They’ll pick up.”

The computer sighs. _“I can try.”_

Zim is faced with the connection screen, the one he’s been staring at for the past month, begging to show him something other than _nothing._ Then the static starts.

“Computer, send an emergency signal.”

The connection attempts again before fading back to white noise.

“My Tallest!” Zim cries, hoping the desperation in his voice isn’t as obvious to Dib as it is to him. “I’ve been captured by one of the filthy humans! Send help!” He struggles in his restraints for effect, but the ache against his wrists feels real as he begs for release from so much more than the stupid chains. The monitor is still static. How is he not reaching them?

“Computer! Another emergency signal! Is there any way you can make it more urgent?”

_“No.”_

He shoots a glare at Dib as the connection re-attempts, because he’s just _standing_ there, staring at him. Humans are so _stupid_. Dib nods, understanding a cue he shouldn’t have needed. He musters an evil-sounding laugh and holds a scalpel to Zim’s neck.

“It’s too late, alien! They won’t get to you in time!” He almost looks like he’s enjoying this. Zim winces, the blade far too close to his skin for a moment of truce. He feels actual fear start to stir in him when Dib doesn’t move his hand and the static continues to buzz.

“My Tallest, please! Do something!” Zim closes his eyes, realizing how big of a mistake this was far too late. “I need to get out of here!” He’s fighting the bars holding him down for real now, his boots kicking against the hard table. He struggles, expecting to feel his neck slice open any second, until he hears Dib’s voice again, calling him.

“Zim. Zim, listen to me.” He reluctantly cracks an eye open. The restraints are open, and his hand flies to his neck. He’s fine. Dib’s standing at the end of the table, scalpel gone, looking at him. His expression is unreadable.

“What?!” Zim snaps, sitting up and rubbing his sore ankles. He looks up at the screen, somehow still disappointed to see a screen full of static. He feels his antennae fall to his sides.

“They’re not going to answer.” Dib looks up at the screen too, and he looks… sad, almost? There’s something in his eyes Zim has never seen. “That, or your signal’s not getting through, but Zim, there’s no point—“

Zim shoves him when he hops up off the table. Dib stumbles, but doesn’t fall. He just shuts his mouth and watches as Zim stands under the monitor, eyes glued on the screen as it buzzes with nothing.

“Don’t tell me what I already know, stink. Now get out of my house.” He doesn’t sound as threatening as he means to, so he adds “Before I vaporize your organs” to the end for good measure.

This was _such_ a bad idea.

Dib is quiet. He doesn’t move either, so Zim turns around to tell the incompetent monkey to leave already, but he’s looking at Zim with something _far_ too akin with pity for him to be comfortable.

But it’s what breaks him.

He deflates, and instead of yelling, he finds himself weakly shoving the human’s back. “Go home,” he pleads, disgusted with how pathetic he sounds. “I will never ask you for another thing as long as I live on this terrible planet but _please_ ,” he lowers his head, butting it into Dib’s back. “Leave Zim.”

  



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uhhh.... hey. thanks so much to everyone who's added kudos and comments to chapter one. sorry about the wait.   
> here's chapter two.

Walking away from Zim’s house after that endeavor, Dib finds himself lost in thought. Part of his brain tells him he should feel victorious; sure he didn’t do anything, but Zim certainly isn’t happy, and apparently no longer so dead-set on taking over the planet. But he doesn’t feel like he’s won anything; quite the opposite really. He never thought he would find himself feeling bad for Zim, a goddamned  _ alien _ he’s sworn to expose and destroy at all costs, but he can’t ignore a dull sadness scraping at his heart, something that feels almost familiar to him. He scoffs. 

“That’s ridiculous. Zim and I are nothing alike,” he tells himself, dragging his boots on the concrete. “In fact I can’t imagine someone more opposite to me! He’s trying to take over the very planet I’m trying to save.” He kicks a rock down the sidewalk. It skips and hops, falling into the street, just to be run over by a passing car. “I have no reason to feel bad for him.”

He rolls his eyes at the very thought and continues along the familiar path back to his house. 

“This would be the best time to expose him, actually,” he mumbles to himself as he opens the door. “Just have to catch him when he’s not—“

“Are you talking to yourself again?” 

Dib looks up to see a figure hunched over in a familiar spot on the couch, eyes glued to a Game Slave 2 like always. “Hi Gaz.”

She doesn’t look up from her game but for a second, and just to scowl at him before returning to the soul-sucking realm of Piggy Slayer 2. 

Dib just shakes his head and heads to the kitchen to get himself something to eat. He finds his dad hovering over the kitchen counter, making a sandwich. Dib’s grown a couple inches over the past few months, but he still has to look up to talk to him.

“Hey, Dad.” 

“Don’t mind your sister,” he says, absentmindedly patting Dib on the head as he walks by. “She’ll grow out of this mean phase of hers.”

Dib sits down at the table, leaning on an elbow. “I think you’ve been saying that since she was born.” 

The professor laughs, a sound Dib notes he doesn’t hear often enough these days. He brings his plate to the table and sits across from him, not even bothering to take off his gloves or his goggles as he sits down to have his lunch. It really felt like they were part of him at this point. “So where were you this morning, son?”

Dib gets up to fix himself a glass of water and sighs. “Zim’s house. I borrowed some of your stuff from the lab. Hope that’s okay.” 

“That’s fine, son. I’m just happy to see you spending time with your little friend.”

Dib coughs and nearly chokes on his water. “What?!” He puts the glass down to avoid further damage. His dad has put down his sandwich to look at him. “Dad, Zim and I are  _ not  _ friends. He’s an alien! I’ve told you—“

“A million times, yes.” The professor sighs. He sounds tired, but he stands up and pushes in his chair. “Well,” he says, sounding almost disappointed as he grabs his plate, “I’ve got to get back to the lab.” 

As he walks down the stairs, Dib feels the usual sinking feeling that he scared him away. He pushes that from his mind though, and returns to Zim. What was he going to do if he was stuck here? Dib fixes his own lunch and brings it up the stairs to his room. He stops in the doorway and finds himself looking around his room, at his posters and magazine clippings and and has to wonder how much better his relationship could be with his dad if he wasn’t so… obsessed with the paranormal. With a sigh, he logs into the Swollen Eyeball network, and reads up on the latest sightings of Bigfoot and Nessie and whatever phony creature somebody found in the woods that week. After debunking a couple of the more ridiculously terrible photoshop jobs, he starts to prepare a post on Zim, how he had an alien so close, so vulnerable, but no matter how many times he tries to compose it, he finds himself backspacing it over and over again. It feels private, somehow, like something he shouldn’t be sharing. Since when does he care about Zim’s feelings?

He doesn’t realize how much time has passed until Gaz calls him down for dinner. He enters the living room just to see her still sitting in front of the TV with a couple of boxes of pizza.

“Where’s Dad?” 

She doesn’t turn around. “He had to go back to work. You know, if you’d come out of your room sometimes, you’d know what was going on.”

Dib scoffs. Like either of them  _ want _ him out of his room. “I’m not the one who spends all my time on a Game Slave.”

“I’m not the one who obsesses over a bunch of fake monsters and pretends the people who talk about them online are my friends,” Gaz says, impressively through a mouthful of pizza. Really about a typical Gaz level of ouch, but all Dib can find himself getting out is a mumbled “They’re not fake” as he goes to open the pizza box on top. 

“Mine,” says Gaz, putting a hand over it and pointing to the other box. “Yours.”

Dib opens it, hungry at this point, and is disappointed to see just...cheese.

“You didn’t get pineapple?” He asks, sounding hurt. He closes the box and looks at her. 

Gaz gags. “No one likes pineapple on their pizza.”

“I do! You  _ know _ that!”

“No one who matters, anyway.” 

He stands there with his mouth open and pizza in hand. There’s just no dealing with Gaz.

“I’m… just not going to talk to you anymore,” he says, taking the box to the kitchen to eat in peace.

“Thanks,” she calls over the back of the couch, before turning back to yet another stupid Bloaty’s commercial.

As Dib crawled into bed that night, he began to feel that same dull ache he got when he left Zim’s house.

Maybe they did have something in common after all.

—-

After tossing and turning all night long, Dib had finally come up with a plan, and now he was on his way to execute it.

The summer heat was downright oppressive as it beat down on him on his walk to Zim’s house, and much to his chagrin, he had to leave his coat at home. His arms happily absorb the sunlight they’ve been so long denied, and he’s grateful he’s going to be inside all day, or he knows he would burn. 

He goes over the plan over and over again in his mind. He always finds himself stuck at the same part: Zim’s reaction. But how bad could it be? Zim didn’t seem very capable of much of anything, recently.

Before he even realizes it, he’s at Zim’s door. He brings his arm up to wipe the sweat beading on his forehead, and before he knocks, he has a fleeting thought wondering whether or not Irkens sweat. Hopefully he’ll have the answer soon enough. 

“Here goes nothing,” he mumbles. He raps his fist on the door three times and has to stop himself from putting his ear to the door to assess the situation. He shifts his weight from foot to foot, not sure how this is going to go. He’s beginning to plan every word he’s going to say when the door opens to a crack. 

“Hellooooo…?” comes a tiny voice from inside. Zim’s robot thing is peeking through the gap. He’s in his hideously inaccurate green dog disguise. 

Dib clears his throat. “Hi, um... Gir, right?” He’s talking to a robot dog.  _ He’s talking to a robot dog. _

“Yeeess…?” He says in the same comically quizzical tone, cocking his head to the side. It’s hard not to laugh. His face breaks into a smile anyway.

“Is Zim home?” 

Gir looks over his shoulder. Dib tries to follow his gaze into the house, but Gir turns back around before he can see anything.

“My master’s doin’ nothin’. He’s been doin’ that a lot!” He smiles and puts his little tongue out. Dib has no idea how he was ever supposed to look like a dog.

Finally, Dib hears Zim’s voice from inside. 

“Who’s at the door, Gir?” His words are flat, like he doesn’t really care either way.

“Nooobody,” says Gir, metallic voice squeaking. “I gotta go, bye!” He starts to close the door. 

Dib throws his arm at the crack, trying to keep it open. “No, wait! I need to talk to Zim!”

Gir looks back to Zim again. Dib still can’t see him, but he hears him again. “Is Dib back?” Gir nods. Zim sighs.

“Well, let him in then, I guess.” 

Gir steps back from the door and opens it wider to reveal more of Zim’s weird imitation-human home. As Dib walks in he lets himself get a good look around, and this place  _ still  _ gives him the creeps. From the weird pipes in the ceiling, and the toilet in the kitchen, to the creepy monkey picture on the wall, everything is just so…fake. He’s completely lost in thought until Zim coughs and he snaps back to reality. Zim is laying on his couch, squinting at him with his freaky ruby red eyes. Dib would laugh at the juxtaposition of such a foreign life form flopped in what was such a normal, human position, but even though he had been in this house more times that he could count, he found himself too unsettled. Instead he stood where he was, Gir shutting the door behind him and joining Zim on the couch. He sits up a little when Dib doesn’t do anything.

“Did you want something or not, human?” Mild annoyance comes through his voice, but it’s incredibly shallow.

“Oh. Right.” Dib straightens, fixing his eyes on Zim. “So…” He shuffles a little, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “I’m, um…” His stomach turns at the thought of apologizing to the creature he’s called his enemy for so long, but as he searches his eyes he feels another pang of sympathy. He just looks so...sad. “About the other day…”

“Get on with it.” 

“Yeah, okay.” He shakes his head and remembers what he has so carefully planned for this meeting. He knows exactly where he’s going, just needs to get it out. “I’m sorry about what happened.” 

Zim’s mouth twists into a frown. “I don’t want an apology from you.” The disgust in his voice bites.

“Not for anything I did,” he says, shutting that implication down hurriedly. “I helped you out, Zim. I’m sorry about the fact that you couldn’t contact your leaders. That you’re, you know. Stuck here.” 

Zim shifts, visibly uncomfortable. His eyes narrow, making his bright red irises all the more menacing. “I don’t need your pity, either.” 

Dib puts his hands up in a form of surrender. “No pity. I just empathize.” Somehow, he finds himself being honest.

Zim laughs, and it’s a loud, hollow sound. “As if you could understand.” He turns the TV off and Gir whines in disappointment before heading into the kitchen. “You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t want something from me. Now what is it.” 

“I want to make a deal with you.” 

“Make a deal with  _ you _ ?!” He snarls, lip curling. 

“Come on, Zim. I did  _ you _ a favor, didn’t I?” Dib takes a step forward, and Zim sinks back into the couch. “So you can do one for me. And this has something in it for both of us.” 

Zim crosses his arms. “Zim works with no one,” he spits. “Especially not a pitiful, inferior, dis _ gusting _ —“

“You do this every time!” Dib throws his arms in the air, and tries to ignore Zim’s chuckle when his voice cracks. “Any time I ask you for something, you ignore that fact that we’ve worked together  _ multiple times _ —“

“I have never willingly worked with you!”

“Okay,” Dib rolls his eyes. “But when we had to, we did fine, right?” Zim looks away and doesn’t answer. “Right. I tied you to an autopsy table yesterday and managed to  _ not _ kill you. You at least owe it to me to hear me out.”

Zim gives nothing of an affirmative, but folds his little gloved hands in his lap. He’s listening. 

“You’ve been on this planet for coming up on two years and you still don’t know shit about earth  _ or  _ the human race.” Zim opens his mouth to argue and Dib cuts him off. “Zim, what’s a heart for?”

He looks mildly offended. “Breathing, of course.” 

“Why does it rain? 

“There’s… too much water in your atmosphere.” He gestures vaguely, his confidence waning. “It. Falls.” 

“What’s a vegetable?” 

Zim groans and throws his hands up in defeat. “Okay, stink-boy. But I’ll have you know I’ve gathered a lot of intelligence about you humans,” he spits the last word, disgust slicing every enunciated syllable. “There’s just only so much I care to learn about your filthy way of life.” 

“I get it. But if you’re going to be living here,” Dib gestures around the room, beginning to remember the words he’s rehearsed, “why not do it right?” 

Zim’s teeth remain bared in an eternal grimace. “Now tell me what you want, human.”

Dib takes a deep breath, trying to prepare for whatever Zim’s about to throw at him.

“In exchange for me teaching you about Earth, you have to teach me about your home planet.”

Zim looks surprised for only a moment, before his eyes narrow to a dangerous-looking squint.

“Not interested.”

“C’mon, Zim. What else are you gonna do??”

He snaps up and fixes Dib with a different angry look, one of pure fury. He winces and suddenly sees that maybe that wasn’t the right thing to say.

But then Zim sighs, and sinks back into the couch.

“As much as I despise with all of my powerful being to say this… I think you’re right.”

A smile begins to creep its way into Dib’s face. “Hey, don’t look so down about it,” he says to Zim, whose eyes are stuck to the floor. “Think of it as like… a promotion!”

“A promotion.” Zim repeats dryly.

“Yeah.”

“You have no understanding whatsoever of the expectations for an Irken invader.”

“So tell me.” 

Dib fixes Zim with a little smile and nervous shrug. Zim hops off the couch and walks out of the room, calling Gir. Dib watches cluelessly as they approach the trashcan elevator.

“Well, are you coming, human?”

Dib bolts after them, a newfound spring in his step.

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LMAO SORRYYYYY i totally lost my drive for writing this fic but the movie brought just enough of the passion back ;') i have not started chapter three but i DO know where i'm going with it so i PROMISE PROMISE PROMISE it won't be as long of a wait as this was. gimme like. a month. hmu on tumblr @zadf if u wanna chat. love y'all

**Author's Note:**

> chapter two is almost done so hopefully i can have it up soon. be sure to leave a comment if you enjoyed and you can visit me on tumblr at @zadf!


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